


play another chord

by soundingawkward



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-26
Updated: 2012-10-26
Packaged: 2017-11-17 01:51:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/546322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soundingawkward/pseuds/soundingawkward
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for the Ziall Ficathon. Prompt: niall giving zayn guitar lessons that end with them laying on the floor making out (or any scenario that ends that way, really)</p>
            </blockquote>





	play another chord

**Author's Note:**

> naturally, this is unbeta'd, so please ignore the mistakes, and I might come back to this and work on it more on a later date.

 

Zayn, Niall muses, doesn’t really listen.

 

He knows that from other places, other times; lessons they actually go to, rules that are made and if anyone yells to him across the yard. It’s just what Zayn does; he ignores people and carries on with whatever that’s on his mind. Not that he really means too, most of the time, but that’s what just happens; Zayn’s too busy caught up in the mystical world within his head. There’s connections seen, that no one else notices and he gets distracted by anything or everything.

 

But, Zayn  _always_  listens to Niall. No matter if it’s something completely trivial or random, Zayn’s always listening. Even if it’s just Niall rambling on about thinks that irk him, or drunk slurring, Zayn’s listening, and he’s listening intently. It’s just a fact that Niall’s grown comfortable with, expecting it whenever he talks to have Zayn listen.

 

So, that’s probably why he’s so furious that Zayn thinks the ceiling is more interesting than whatever Niall has to say about the G chord he’s playing upon his worn guitar.

 

Zayn’s fingers, which are never really still, as tracing away on his leg and his eyes flicker along the ceiling titles. Niall supposes that maybe he’s tapping away some pattern that makes sense in his mind, but honestly Niall’s too annoyed for caring. Zayn’s supposed to  _listen_ to him.

 

Unfortunately, the thing with Zayn is when you’ve lost his attention it’s a little too hard to gain it again, so frustrated, Niall sighs and stops with his guitar lesson. He’s not even sure Zayn wanted to learn anyway and therefore props his guitar down, beside his stool. For a moment, Niall just sits there, watching as Zayn doesn’t even act like anything’s changed and he sighs. Is this what it feels like to be ignored by Zayn? He ponders, and then sighs again, louder this time and fervently hopes this never happens again.

 

When it becomes obvious that Zayn’s still stuck in the dream world of this head, a pattern making sense to him and him only is too fascinating for Niall to hold his attention Niall picks up his guitar again, strumming it lightly. It’s a little out of tune, Niall notices, but he doesn’t care and lets his fingers drift across the strings, a slow succession of chords.

 

As Niall plays, fingers flittering, he glances up, towards Zayn who’s still captivated by the ceiling, but his movement of his own fingers has changed; it’s more rapid now. Curiously, Niall watches intently, his playing slowing down and so do Zayn’s fingers dancing their pattern. With a sly grin Niall picks up his pace, fingers sliding around the strings of the guitar and so Zayn’s pick up their pace, swirling the pattern down; over and over.

 

Niall can’t help the smug grin that litters his features; Zayn’s not really ignoring him, not at all.

 

Because Niall’s not really playing a song, only a line of chords for Zayn to follow, it gets boring quick and he once again props his guitar done; standing up and stretching. Zayn’s finger drawing goes back to what must be the original pace, his eyes still firmly planted on the ceiling. Niall plonks down beside him, looking up in a hope that maybe he can see what Zayn can, but it’s a waste of time and it’s just a bunch of dots and spit balls.

 

“Why’d you stop?” Zayn doesn’t look from his task, like he’s trying to memorise something, and Niall shrugs unconvincingly, before realising that Zayn’s not looking at him, and there’s no point to body language whilst the ceiling is so interesting.

“What can you see?” He counters, and Zayn bites off a laugh, shrugging himself and pointing with his tapping finger, tracing an almost non-existent pattern.

 

It doesn’t really mean anything to Niall, but surely it has some sort of meaning to Zayn; maybe it’s a symbol for something. Although, Niall doesn’t mention it, you could probably come up with any old pattern using the dots on the ceiling tiles as a base. He just smiles and nods; like he agrees with Zayn.

 

Zayn smiles too, a proper smile and it can be seen within his eyes. They crinkle up at the edge, and Niall’s fascinated by the soft folds of Zayn’s skin. Slowly, in case it’s not okay for him to do so, Niall leans in, tilting his head in fascination. One calloused finger traces one of the crinkles around Zayn’s eye; his skin is soft, and it’s like there’s an intricate pattern there.

 

Is this what Zayn feels like? Niall thinks suddenly, but smiles because he may  _actually_ understand and traces another line, marvelling at the beauty of it. Niall lets his fingers wander, tracing over the crinkles around Zayn’s eyes and then one finger dips, disappearing to trace Zayn’s eyelid, and it makes the boy blink.

 

Startled, like he wasn’t expecting anything to happen Zayn turns his head, unsure if he’s about to tell Niall off, ask why or say something about how with Niall’s clumsy fingers Zayn could have lost an eye. But with the words saturating his tongue he cannot say anything, caught up in the patterns curled within Niall’s eyes.

 

Niall’s exhale brushes along Zayn’s lips, and he can almost see it swirling in the air like tea in hot water. Niall breaths out again, and Zayn can nearly taste the pattern, bumping against his own lips, tickling them. When Niall makes no attempt to move, and Zayn’s finished memorising the ones in Niall’s eyes he leans forwards, just enough to properly taste the pattern of Niall’s breath.

 

It takes Zayn a moment to realise that he’s got his work cut out, there’s the patterns of Niall’s breath, drifting against his lips, but there’s also the one on Niall’s lips; the whirls and ridges upon the pink skin. Titling his head, Niall pressing forwards also, sealing the mixture of their lips and to Zayn’s surprise there are also patterns within Niall’s mouth, patterns everywhere.

 

And, Zayn thinks, he quite likes these patterns much better than any other types he’s encountered today, although, he might ask Niall to play another chord for him.


End file.
